The ball struck Don Rafaele, who, being held in Hildebrand’s left arm, above his shoulder, offered the Spaniard the best mark. With a low moan, he fell back on Hildebrand’s shoulder; but that person, though thus rendered sensible that he had been wounded, did not suffer this incident to arrest his flight, but still pushed on for the street.
Although he had some paces headway, he had no time to spare. He had hardly gained the outer passage, when the Spaniards, now fully collected, were joined by Don Gonzalez, and they set after him amain. Before they arrived at the doorway, however, he had gained the street.
The storm was still raging; and the darkness promised, by its excessive density, to screen his steps from observation. As he turned into the street, he seemed to acquire new vigour, yet his long, heavy cloak, though it shielded him from the weather, was a great incumbrance to him, and embarrassed him exceedingly. Feeling this, he slipped it off as he gained the street, and suffered it to fall behind him. The voices and steps of his pursuers were now close at his heels. Undaunted, yet alive to every incident, he ran swiftly on, and, as he progressed, looked about for some projection, behind which he might conceal himself. The darkness was so dense, that he could not, by the utmost stretch of his vision, distinguish any such covert; but, keeping close against the side of the street, he came to an aperture in one of the houses, opening to a retired door. Without a moment’s hesitation, he drew back into the recess, and there ventured to take breath.
As Hildebrand thus came to a halt, his pursuers, who, having been joined by Don Gonzalez, were now five in number, made their appearance in the street. For one brief moment, Hildebrand was in hopes that, having no trace of him to guide them, they would take the opposite direction, and so leave open the only route by which he could retreat. But whether they supposed that he would flee towards the river, or acted from mere impulse, they took the right path, and followed close in his steps. Hildebrand repressed his breath as their tread announced them to be approaching the small recess. Don Rafaele was as still as death; but Hildebrand felt his heart, which was pressed against his, fairly quivering. His hand, too, dripped with his blood.